Harry Potter and the Knight of Ashes
by Total Absolutism
Summary: In order to foil the machinations of the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore calls up an old friend to fill the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. The Hogwarts Trio must deal with unorthodox teaching methods as well as fight the misinformation of the brand new History of Magic teacher; Senior Under-Secretary Dolores Umbridge. It's going to be an interesting fifth year.
1. Chapter One - The Sorting Ceremony

Harry Potter is property of the Dread Pirate Rowling. Paraphrased and quoted text is from Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right; leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term sheer number of people present made it even harder for Harry to not notice how many of them would press their heads together and whisper to each other as he passed. It took all he had to grit his teeth and act as if he either didn't notice or didn't care.

Luna Lovegood drifted aimlessly away in the rough direction of the Ravenclaw table. Ginny was shortly taken away by her fellow fourth-years and Harry was left to sit halfway down the table with Ron, Hermione and Neville. He ignored the over-friendly greetings those sitting around him gave him; the changes to the staff table were far more interesting.

Of most obvious notice was Hagrid's absence; the half-giant's size made it fairly obvious whenever he was, or wasn't, present. Then there was someone new sitting next to Dumbledore, beside an empty seat, and talking into the Headmaster's ear. She looked like the epitome of proverbial 'auntness', as Hermione might have said; a dumpy little individual with curly, plain brown hair and an excessive pinkness to her general attire. Usually he wasn't one to judge by appearance but, just as he'd been trying to assess her, she'd turned around. He gasped sharply.

"Do you know her, Harry?" Hermione seemed to have noticed his surprise and had leaned over to make a quiet inquiry. He elbowed Ron in the side, somewhat gently, to bring his other best friend into the conversation.

"See the woman beside Dumbledore? She was at my hearing, and she works for Fudge. Her name's Umbridge, I think." That brought a frown to Hermione's face and a bloody great scowl to Ron's; whatever someone like that was doing in Hogwarts couldn't be good for anyone.

"Could she... no, there's another space, isn't there?" Harry did a quick accounting of the teachers he knew of; McGonagall was leading the first years in just now, and there was Snape of course. Trelawney rarely came down for feasts but there was Flitwick chatting with Professor Grubbly-Plank... was she there because Hagrid wasn't back yet? Snape was impossible to forget... and he didn't know many of the others but Hermione obviously did because she'd finished counting far before he had. "Hagrid's seat is being left empty, but so is another one. I doubt Professor Dumbledore hired someone like that to be our new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher..." Harry wasn't quite so sure. There had been Lupin, certainly, but also Quirrel and Lockhart; he'd certainly tried with Moody but... well, come to think of it, Crouch Junior had been a remarkably good teacher in spite of being a Death Eater.

"Dad was saying something about this," Ron muttered darkly, "That Fudge might try and interfere in Hogwarts given what Harry and Dumbledore have been saying about You-Know-Who." That was a sobering thought all round. It was chased away, at least temporarily, by the last of the first-years finally stopping their general milling about and the Sorting Hat coming forward for its traditional song.

"There was a time, in years long passed,  
When wizards both far and near,  
Could scarcely brew a potion,  
Without feeling a great fear;

For fires raged 'cross Britain,  
And muggles stayed not their hand;  
For to burn any witch or wizard,  
Was the custom of the land.

'twas a time when I was new,  
And had barely been created,  
By our grand and noble founders,  
Whose goal was thusly stated;

'We'll build a place of magic',  
Was their fine decree,  
'Where all our kith and kin,  
Can learn their trade safely'.

Said Gryffindor, "I will teach those,  
That desire to be strong,  
To protect those that they cherish,  
And fight to right the wrong!"

Said Ravenclaw, "Then I will take,  
Those with a need to know,  
As yours shall protect then mine,  
Will tell them friend from foe."

Said Hufflepuff, "Very well,  
Mine shall be those who strive,  
And help us find a way to live,  
Whilst yours help us survive."

Last, Slytherin, "As for mine,  
They shall be noble and true,  
I shall safeguard our traditions,  
And leave the rest to you."

Thus were their ideals wrought,  
From times of war and strife,  
Where any wizards might be forced,  
One day, to take a life.

But times changed, as oft they do,  
And no more were we at war.  
But Slytherin's legacy,  
Was sharper than before.

He left behind a memory,  
Of a time dark and grim,  
When those a wizard trusted,  
Must needs be just like him.

Now all of you who listen,  
There is a truth you must know,  
No matter what is done,  
What always was may not stay so.

A dark future looms before us,  
Our enemy stands at the gate,  
We must stand together,  
If we are to face our fate.

For though I now divide you,  
All of Hogwarts is as one.  
The time for peace is over,  
And dimmer, grows the sun.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
The warning history shows,  
For our Hogwarts is in danger,  
From external, deadly foes!

We must unite inside her,  
Or we'll crumble from within,  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
Let the Sorting now begin!

The usually thunderous applause that followed the Hat's song, be it from custom or genuine delight, was quieter. Usually the musical number was confined to a brief outline of the various qualities prized by the four houses and the role played in the event by the Sorting Hat itself. Harry could hear the murmurs and whispers of a confused school passing down the tables.

"Never heard anything like that before, eh mate?" Ron turned to face him, one brow raised. Before Harry could answer him, however, the sorting itself was already underway. He didn't pay much attention beyond offhandedly applauding as everyone else did. As soon as it was done he turned to his friend again.

"Which do you reckon is weirder; the story, or the warning?" Hermione, who must have been dying to speak the entire way through the Sorting Ceremony, cut in to answer herself.

"Neither, or perhaps both; I've never heard of it giving a warning before but some parts of that song were definitely an embellishment. Witch-burning, or wizard-burning I suppose, wasn't even remotely common during the period the Founders lived in." In the background Dumbledore called the feast to order in his usual fashion and the tables creaked in unison under the weight of the food. "And that extra seat by that Umbridge woman is still empty." So it was. There weren't many older students around he could ask about the Sorting Hat, at least, and Nearly-Headless Nick was congenially introducing himself to the new students further down the table while showing off his usual trick.

"Well," Ron began to talk between mouthfuls of food. He would've continued but Hermione gave him a Look that reminded Harry quite suddenly of McGonagall. "Hat lives in Dumbledore's office all year round, right? Stands t'reason it might pick up a thing or two from his business. Isn't hard to guess something messed up is going on, and the students ain't being told about it." Hermione adopted a thoughtful expression as she seemed to digest Ron's surprisingly insightful statement. Harry did have to admit that it didn't quite gel with how vigorously he was attacking his food. The rumble of his own stomach reminded him how hungry he was and he forgot the issue for a moment in order to fill his plate and get something into his stomach. They'd gotten sidetracked over bickering about Ron trying to talk with his mouth full, in any case.

Eventually Dumbledore stood again and started the usual announcements. Forbidden Forest, Filch's demands and so on. He wasn't really focused on it due to the seductive image of his soft, warm bed calling to him. The mention of staff changes, though, made him snap back to attention.

"... pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank; who shall be taking Care of Magical Creatures until Professor Hagrid returns from his long overdue holiday in France." That was the first that Harry had heard of such a thing. It made sense, however, given how everyone with half a brain and one good eye had noticed his interest in the Headmistress of Beauxbatons during the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. "And I am equally saddened to announce the long-delayed retirement of Professor Binns in favour of Professor Umbridge, our new History of Magic teacher." That confused Harry a great deal while also causing Hermione to start violently in her seat. The expression she wore was a surprisingly dark one for her. "And our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has been delayed by poor weather over France but I am certain he will be here in time for lessons tomorrow. Finally, Quidditch tryouts will be-"

There was an uncomfortable pause, almost like a missed beat, as Dumbledore stopped mid-speech and turned to his left. For a moment nobody was sure why he'd ceased until Professor Umbridge took a step forward. Harry hadn't even noticed her stand up. The Headmaster bowed his head to her in his usually genial fashion and sat back down in order to give her what seemed to be his full attention. Other staff members were not quite so cordial. Harry didn't think he'd seen Professor McGonagall looking quite so affronted in... years, at least.

"Thank so very much, Headmaster, for such a warm welcome." Something about the woman just seemed to engender immediate dislike in pretty much everyone. Harry certainly felt on edge with every word that came out of her toadish face. "It is such a joy to finally return to Hogwarts after so many years!" He wondered briefly what house she'd been in. Part of him almost said Hufflepuff, but nobody that spectacularly unpleasant could have come from anywhere but Slytherin. Besides, he'd heard her speak before. Something was off about this. "As I look down upon all your joyful little faces I just know that we'll all be very good friends."

The student body had a fairly mixed reaction to her assertion. Some were confused. A great many, Hermione included, recoiled at being spoken to like they were toddlers. Fred and George were already sporting massive and sinister grins. But, as Umbridge cleared her throat with an aggravatingly little noise ('hem, hem'), he felt a faint dread washing over him. "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

She continued in that vein for some time. Something about tradition and innovation was in there. Progress for progress' sake. A lot of words that Harry usually only heard when he was listening to some of the more conservative radio shows that Uncle Vernon put on from time to time. It was all going well over his head, mostly because it was so dull that he let it.

"This." Hermione began to whisper across to her two friends with a tone Harry wasn't used to hearing from her; outrage. "Is a Bad Thing." Those last two words were given particular emphasis to make sure that he and Ron got the point.

"Sounds like a load of waffle t'me, 'Mione. Kinda like Percy practicing for his job interviews at the Ministry." She shook her head and shot a dark look up at the head table where Umbridge continued to soldier on with her speech in clear defiance of the number of students ignoring her. Perhaps she hadn't even noticed; or didn't care.

Whatever either her, or Umbridge, was about to say was cut short when the doors to the great hall slid open. This was unlike when Crouch-Junior-as-Moody had arrived last year. That had been a spectacular spectacle. In this case, only those facing the doors had even noticed they were open because of how softly they had swung ajar. Barely wide enough to admit a single man through, and so they did.

This, Harry thought, was nobody to be trifled with. They were certainly interesting enough. Like their predecessor, or most of them actually, they shunned the usual wizardly garb in favour of a deep blue mantle over a thin white cotton robe. It split around the knees to allow for ease of movement and looked almost more like a long jacket than anything else. He carried all sorts of interesting gew-gaws and knick-knacks about his person; a knife in the belt beside a quiver of what looked like crossbow bolts, probably to go with the crossbow hanging from the other side. A trio of heavy scroll-cases slung over his shoulder and a curious black obelisk in miniature bouncing against his knee. A bandolier of pouches with surprisingly muggle-looking clasps and a heavy clay bottle hanging off the end just under his left arm. Heavy leather gloves with odd silvery bangles sewn over both the palm and the top of his hand. A long, hooked, black wood cane with a winding silver pattern down it clacked quietly on the stone with every step the man took.

That was just his attire; which was ringing alarm bells all on its own. There were... other things. Like the fact that his soft leather boots were squelching quietly, and the edges of his mantle dripping water on the floor, but his face and hair were pristine. Something about the long hair hanging down the man's back and sides put him in mind of Lockhart. Maybe it was the carefully manicured facial hair; with goatee and beard that melded into sideburns. No, that wasn't quite up there with Lockhart; he took pride in appearing... neat. That was the vibe he gave off. Move of a once-over in the mirror with a quick spell and then on with the day, as opposed to hours spent primping and curling. Then, just like that, Harry realized what it was.

Moody. He'd just met the old wizard for real this summer and that was who the man reminded of him. Not the eyes, although in terms of piercing, icy-blue gazes they were well-matched. The footing. How he moved. Mad-Eye was always alert, ever vigilant, light on his feet and prepared to strike at a moment's notice. This man, with hair as white as Dumbledore's and a face about as weathered, was even more than that. He practically glided across the stone, almost silently save for the subtle sound of his wet boots. Part of Harry was absolutely certain that he was allowing them to make that noise so as not to startle the students he was passing behind.

Harry had been wrong, earlier, because only Hermione had stopped; Umbridge had carried on with her speech without noticing the man's entry. He slid up the steps towards the staff table and, with a cordial nod at Dumbledore, took the empty seat beside the pink woman. She paid absolutely no notice by the newcomer and, likewise, he ignored her. Instead he went straight to surveying the house tables with an intensity that was almost paralyzing.

"Hermione." Harry was surprised to hear the sound of his own voice over the sudden silence that had overcome the Great Hall; apart from the continued droning of Professor Umbridge. At least it sounded like she was finally wrapping up. "D'you know who that is?" His friend just shook her head slowly. He certainly didn't look the professoring type, that much was certain. Hermione shrugged. Her focus hadn't shifted much from Umbridge; who, as it happened, was finally done with her speech. It can't have been all that long if one went by the state of the night sky but it felt like it had been longer.

"How much of that did you hear?" Harry shrugged. Bits and pieces. That brought a frown to his friend's face even as Ron looked over at her in confusion.

"You listened to that twaddle while we had the second coming of Mad-Eye to gawk at? Blimey, Hermione, but that was the dullest speech I've ever heard; Percy included." Apparently she didn't agree because she violently shook her head in response.

"No, Ron. It was very… illuminating. Though I do wonder if his arrival was a coincidence. It was awfully distracting." She cast a glance at Umbridge as she sat down again with a simpering little smile on her froggy little face. "For most of us, anyway."

"Well, sounded like a lot of waffling to me." Said Harry. That was another word he'd picked up from Uncle Vernon; admittedly usually used when he was talking about the politicians he didn't like rather than the ones he did; although Harry could never see much of a difference.

"It was. I suspect that was the point. All that light and fluffy candy to hide the razor blade in the floss. 'Progress for progress' sake must be discouraged'. 'Effectiveness and accountability', well of course. 'Pruning' indeed." At this point she was mostly talking to herself. Even over Dumbledore finally explaining the time and date of Quidditch tryouts. Rather more curious was that the Headmaster dismissed the feast without actually introducing the new Professor. Had he said the name at any point? Harry didn't think so.

"Yeah, but what's all that even mean?" Although Ron did have a point Harry just couldn't escape a sinking feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Around them people began to rise and stretch as Prefects called out for first years to follow them. Hermione followed suit.

"It means, Ron, that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts. Gryffindor First Years, over here please!" She stepped to one side and held up a hand, shot Ron an exasperated look until he got the idea and joined her. Harry looked at the gaggle of terrified little faces and grinned at them. Had he looked like that in his first year? Surely not. A young blond boy elbowed one of the others, Harry thought his name might be Abercrombie, and they both shot him a horrified glance and then pushed back into the huddle of kids. All amusement faded quite suddenly from him as he stepped up smartly; pushing past Ron and Hermione as he went.

"Meet you there." Was all he got out before he was weaving through the crowd. A pair of shortcuts beyond the main marble staircase quickly saw him alone in the corridors as he made his way upstairs. Stupid. He'd been stupid to think they'd be anything other than afraid of him.

"Potter." An unfamiliar voice cut through the silence. The new Professor was standing in the hallway. Harry's mind raced as he tried to trace the path the man had to take to beat him here. He couldn't think of one off the top of his head. "Headmaster wishes to see us. Come along." There was a slight Germanic overtone to his speech; faint, but noticeable. He began to move along a different path without any heed if Harry was following him. After a moment, and with significant reluctance, Harry did so. For such an obviously old man he had a really quick stride. Half the time he had to jog the keep up. As a result they shortly arrived at the Gargoyle guarding the stairs to Dumbledore's tower. The Professor gave it a sharp look and then rolled his eyes. "Peppermint Pastie." The Gargoyle stepped aside to a heavy sigh in accompaniment. Harry was once more left behind for a moment as the older man took the steps in twos.

He wasn't really hurrying, as such. It seemed entirely natural; as if his normal rate of motion just happened to be twice that of everyone else. The height helped. Next to Hagrid, and Madame Maxime, this was easily the tallest person he'd ever met; albeit in a human sort of way and not a giant sort of way. Who climbed Dumbledore's staircase anyway? It rose for you.

The Headmaster was waiting for them. Fawkes probably helped with that; though he probably had access to staff passages and the like. Dumbledore smiled warmly at the both of them; causing the other person in the room to grumble quietly.

"Ah, Caiaphas, my old friend; why so dour? Surely you can allow the grumpy old man act to pass a little bit." Caiaphas, as that was apparently his name, glowered even harder at Dumbledore. Most people looked petulant when they did that; he looked like he was trying to set the Headmaster alight with his gaze alone.

"Next time you call in a favour from me at the last minute, Albus, you will either send your phoenix to collect me or you will give me a full month's warning! I was in _Siberia_ when I got your message, and have not slept in two days for the flying." Harry couldn't help but gawp at that. Flying for two days straight? He'd fall off his broom. Not that the old man had one.

"I apologize, old friend; I had assumed you would be in residence in Germany. You know I would not have called upon you if my need wasn't great." Caiaphas grumbled under his breath a bit more but sat down; seemingly mollified. Dumbledore added to this by snapping his fingers and calling forth a House Elf that shortly returned itself with a pot of hot tea. "Harry, you needn't stay overlong; I just wished to inform you that Professor Dietrich will be taking your Occlumency lessons instead of Professor Snape. Your Godfather had a few words with me about it and I decided that it might be better if you had a… more neutral instructor."

Harry was simultaneously delighted and embarrassed by the concern that Sirius had shown. Part of him wished that he hadn't said anything. The rest of him was very glad that he had. Professor Dietrich, his name finally revealed, gave Harry a proper look-over. The apology and the tea seemed to have evened out his temper and the expression was much more like Dumbledore's. They shared a certain grandfatherly twinkle of the eye; at least when they were in a good mood. The Headmaster was never quite so fierce otherwise.

"He seems a solid lad. You will stop by my office of a Friday evening, boy, and we shall get to work. I will create a reason for you to do so during the week." Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. When this strange German man wasn't grumpy about being forced to fly several thousand kilometres he actually seemed rather nice.

"Very good then, Harry." The Headmaster pulled up a piece of paper and scrawled something across it with a suddenly appearing and then just as quickly vanishing quill. "That will be for Filch, or anyone else who wonders why you're wandering back late. Oh; and the password for the Gryffindor dorm is 'Mimbulus mimbletonia'; an amusing coincidence, considering I believe I saw young Longbottom with that very plant earlier this evening!" Harry had to violently suppress the urge to groan at the thought. Instead he quietly thanked the Professor and the Headmaster then slipped out of the room. They didn't say anything else while he was there. At least he could tell Hermione that Professor Dietrich wasn't in league with Umbridge; if he'd flown all the way from Siberia to answer Dumbledore's call then he must be a good sort.


	2. Chapter Two - Defence Class

The morning had not gone well for Harry Potter. Nor had the evening, for that matter. He'd had to deal with Seamus Finnigan being a nasty rat; having a go at him and Dumbledore for being liars, saying his mam didn't want him to come back to Hogwarts and all. Blaming Harry for her being bonkers, more like. Hermione had said Lavender was saying something similar. There'd almost been a row between the three of them about that when he'd… well, he'd snapped at her. Ron, too. That hurt more than the accusations. The way they'd looked at him.

He knew he was wrong to do it, which is why it stung so much when they looked so taken aback. They were the only ones that really supported him. He oughtn't do that to them, of all people. It was all just so frustrating. Hagrid still wasn't back that morning and although he hadn't had much hope for him being around it would have been nice to be able to go down and have tea in the giant man's hut again. Enjoy the company of people who didn't think he was crazy without someone staring at him all the time.

At least Angelina didn't think he was off his rocker. If the Quidditch team started treating him that way then he didn't know what he'd do. That might just be his last refuge at Hogwarts. It was weird to feel this way somewhere that wasn't the Dursleys. Harry had never really felt unwelcome at Hogwarts before. It had always been a bastion of warm feelings for him.

"Bloody hell," Ron spoke up between bites of bacon, "History of Magic right off the bat. Then Potions, Divination and… hang off, that can't be right. Is that double _double_ Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione frowned and checked her own schedule. It certainly looked like it was. Something was quite off about the schedule, actually.

"The word is 'quadruple', Ron. And it doesn't look like we've got a single Defence class anywhere. It's all doubles or quads." That was quite strange. Sufficiently strange that she got up and strode over to the Ravenclaw table to have a word with one of their Prefects, apparently. Followed by both of them going to the Hufflepuff table. Then, finally, as Harry and Ron watched incredulously all three of them, Hermione with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Prefects in tow, going over to the Slytherin table. When she returned Ron was looking at her with abject horror.

"What'd you go over and talk to Malfoy for?" She ignored him in favour of laying the class schedule down and giving a hard look to both of her friends.

"He's combined all the Houses. We'll be having Defence with every other House each lesson. That's how it fits into the schedule properly. I can't imagine how much harder it made it to balance, though. Poor Professor Vector must have had been working at it for weeks." Harry frowned. That couldn't be right, though, because Dumbledore had only sent for Professor Dietrich recently. Had he set up the schedule before asking him to fill the position?

"Well that's going to be fun. Defence with the Slytherins every time. Wonder how long it'll be before one of them tries to jinx Harry?" Hermione shot Ron a sharp look for his remark but, oddly enough, it actually cheered him up a little bit.

"I've got five knuts that say it'll be within the first session." He shot the reply back at his friend with a growing grin. From what he'd gathered of their new teacher so far it certainly ought to be interesting. First, however, they had to survive Umbridge.

That turned out to be easier said than done. When they arrived at her class, still Professor Binns' old room, she was seated behind the desk and smiling at them in a way that ought to have been warm, would have been on anybody else, but just put Harry in mind of a toad that had bad gas. Everyone was quiet. A new teacher for History of Magic was so bizarre that nobody knew what to expect; the entire school was used to this class being a good time to nap, or catch up on other work, and nobody expected Umbridge to allow similar conduct.

"Good morning, class!" She tittered at them once everyone had finally been seated. A few half-hearted voices raised in reply. "Tut, tut. This is a _class_ , is it not? You shall respond together with, 'Good morning Professor Umbridge'. Once more; Good morning class!" Her saccharine tone felt sufficiently dangerous to galvanize the rest of the class into action; although Harry, at least, just mouthed the words. She smiled wider and then withdrew a rather short, light-brown wand from her pink robes and waved it at one of the cupboards. " _Locomotor Textbooks!_ " A pallet of thick books flew from the cupboard and swooped around the room; depositing one on each desk. Those who had purchased the listed text, especially Hermione, looked rather put out by this.

"Now, I understand this subject has been taught quite _thoroughly_ in terms of rather _ancient_ history. It is my intention to refocus us on a more modern approach in line with the Ministry's new set of Educational Guidelines. Our first topic will be our own Ministry, in fact! A look at recent legislative advances; particularly the many improvements in the care and management of the more _functional_ and _responsible_ non-human members of our society. Please open your books to Chapter One, and ready your quills to take down our goals for the unit."

The foreboding feeling had only grown stronger throughout her speech until it came to a head as she explained what they'd be learning about. Werewolf and Vampire control acts. New Goblin Sovereignty legislation. The decline in Veela-human relations. Improved definition of giant ranging habitats. Most everyone looked confused as they wrote but Hermione was wearing a practical death-rictus as she wrote the course aims down. Harry understood.

All of this was practically screaming Ministry propaganda. Goals such as, 'Explore the historical need for harsher sentencing for rogue werewolves' alongside, 'Examine historical impetus for and justify non-human residence exclusion acts'. He'd taken a peek at the index and it didn't look good at all. Grindelwald was in there, which meant they'd probably be taking shots at Dumbledore next.

"And, finally, I would like to remind everyone that this class deals in _facts_. As such, anyone found to be _misrepresenting the truth,_ " And as she said that her eyes happened to pause as they roved through the class; right on Harry's face, "Will be dealt with quite harshly."

Don't talk about Voldemort. Message received. His teeth ground together as he met her gaze. There was just that hint of a challenge in there. Like she wanted him to say something, in front of the whole class. Some others had noticed and were eying him as well. He probably would, and soon too, but not just yet. For now he just grit his teeth and finished copying down what she had to say. When Umbridge continued into the 'lesson' it was with a triumphant smirk.

The rest of the day was no better. Potions continued to be awful as Snape gave a long speech about his expectations, low, and the chance of them failing the exams, high, and how some of them would likely not be continuing in his class, Potter. Actually, he'd been looking at Neville when he said that last bit. Harry felt a bit sorry for him. Poor guy wasn't great at dealing with Snape's attention at the best of times.

Divination had remained a mixed bag. It didn't help that he'd snapped at Ron and Hermione again and then afterwards Ron had a go at him for it. Only he hadn't. Harry wished he had. He'd just calmly and quietly told Harry that they believed in him and that he didn't need to take out his frustration on them. If he'd gotten angry then Harry would've felt less guilty. Instead he just felt worse because his friend was right. All of the whispers and stares were just getting to him and his friends felt the repercussions because they were closest to him. That wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't fair. That just made it worse.

By the time Defence had rolled around he already wanted to go to bed. Having actual lessons for History of Magic was surprisingly exhausting. Especially when they just made him angrier. Which is why he'd forgotten the downside of the classes right up until he'd nearly collided with Draco Malfoy on the way into the class.

"Watch it, Potter. Running into a Prefect is probably cause for some points to be taken away…" The blonde little prat smiled nastily at Harry right up until the door suddenly swung open. Nobody was behind it. Both of them were sufficiently startled that the usual insult-fight was put on hold. Instead Harry stepped smartly in ahead of the Slytherins so he could avoid the jostling and staring. The interior was… odd. There was a lectern instead of a desk and Professor Dietrich's crossbow was hanging off one side with the quarrels on the other. It was loaded, as well. The back wall had been decorated with a massive map of the world covered with bright pins stuck into places with very little visible rhyme or reason. Or so Harry might have thought if he hadn't spotted a black one in Siberia. Interesting.

They all took their seats quickly but soon found that, with so many students, the room had obviously been expanded. Rather than paired desks they two long ones in each row; spanning a third of the room each with a gap in the middle and at either side. It was wider than before, as well, to allow them all to fill the space. The Hufflepuffs were mostly there already, as were the Ravenclaws, and the rest of the year filled in the gaps as they filed in. No sooner had the last one sat down than the door closed behind them.

Professor Dietrich strode between the desks from the _back_ of the room where he must have just come in himself. His cane punctuated the silence as he strode down the aisles until he was standing behind the lectern at the front. A convenient hook provided a place to hang the cane while he took a piece of chalk and calmly wrote his name upon the board.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts…" He began slowly, calmly. For almost everyone else in the class this was the first time they'd heard him speak. The accent took a number of them aback. "You may need to bear with me; I have never encountered this subject before. Well, this is not quite true. I have not learned it, nor taught it, until this moment." He picked up the textbook from the lectern, undoubtedly Ministry-prescribed, and sniffed in an undignified fashion that accurately displayed just how he felt about it.

"I've read it. Waste of paper. If you wish to be rid of them I will buy them off you at the cost you paid and use them as kindling, or some such. We shall not need a text book for my lessons. I shall explain; as the board says my name is Caiaphas Dietrich. I was born to House Dietrich in Kiel, Germany, in eighteen-fifty-four. Currently I am one-hundred and forty years of age." That sent a ripple of interest through the class right alongside a ripple of concern. Harry could see Hermione, sitting a few seats to the left, lean forward and frown.

"Undoubtedly some of you are wondering if I went to Durmstrang Academy. I did not. The last bit of information I will volunteer about myself is that during my honorary sorting last night the Hat decided I suited Hufflepuff best; although, after some discussion, it was decided that I would have likely been a Slytherin had I attended this school at the correct age." The relief that had arrived on Hermione's face at the first statement was shattered, right along with the mood of most everyone else in the room, at that proclamation.

"This is how my classes will work. The first half is Interior. Theory. We will discuss the best way to deal with the more dangerous creatures of the world and, perhaps, practice some minor spellwork. The second half is two things; it is Exterior, and it is optional. Once we move outside you may choose, instead, to leave the class and it will not count against you." That got interest from a lot of people; particularly Malfoy's two cronies. "However…" The sharp expression that the old man levelled at them practically shoved everyone down in their seats.

"There is always a price. Here is this one; at the end of the Exterior lessons I will inform all those who participated for the full time where the next Interior lesson will be held. You may only learn of the location of an Interior lesson if it is given _freely_. Extortion, blackmail, threats, and the like will not work. Bribery may. If I find anyone has resorted to the former three, among other distasteful methods, I shall be rather… _cross_." Harry was racking his brain as he tried to understand what was going on. What would they do in the Exterior lessons anyway?

"With that in mind we will place our wands away for the time. I need one volunteer from each house. Let me see… Malfoy, Turpin, Bones and… Finnigan." There was a pause as the disconnect between the word 'volunteer' and his sudden selection of people. "Ah, my apologies; English is my fourth language. I did not mean to say volunteer." He did not elaborate further as he awaited the chosen four at the front of the class. There was plenty of space there. "You are to help me demonstrate what I will be teaching in this class."

The Professor stepped out from behind the lectern and waved the four to stand in a line facing the class. Now that they looked at it the mat at the front was about the right size and shape for a duelling field. Dietrich stood at one end and pointed at Seamus. "Finnigan. Opposite me. Imagine you are holding your wand; no need to actually have it for this." The teacher similarly lifted his own hand in a textbook duelling stance. Possibly literally, in fact; he'd have to ask Hermione later. For now he watched the demonstration.

"Now, here is the scenario. You are in Diagon Alley when you are faced with a Dark Wizard that likely means to do you harm. What, boy, do you do?" Seamus stood there for a moment; wondering as to the point of this, no doubt. He cast an accusing look over at Harry before answering.

"Disarming Charm, I guess?" The Professor's eyes narrowed and obviously Seamus took that to mean his answer wasn't correct as he was just about to stammer out something else when he was interrupted.

"Very well. Demonstrate. Without your wand, please; I do not wish for you to actually cast on me." Swallowing nervously Seamus raised his hand with imaginary wand clutched tight and pointed it at the teacher. His mouth opened, an-

" _Avadakedavra._ " Snap. The entire class froze. Within less than a second the Professor had said the incantation, still enunciated clearly, and quite suddenly snapped his fingers at Seamus. The Gryffindor boy was stuck in place with a terrified rictus of surprise plastered on his face. "You are dead, Finnigan. Sit down. Turpin, you're next." The nervous girl took up her position and took a deep breath before squeaking out her plan.

"Ah… animate a nearby cart to protect me then fire stunners from cover." This time Professor Dietrich nodded with what seemed like approval. He waved his hand at her in a way that seemed to indicate he wanted her to demonstrate. When she did so she immediately ducked as she cried out, " _Locomotor Cart!_ " Then, as she took cover behind an imaginary floating cart the Professor pointed at her.

" _Depulso Maxima._ " She froze at his words and looked at him with wide eyes. "You have just been struck by a large, fast-moving object. If you are not dead you cannot fight any more. Sit down. Malfoy." This student strutted into position with heavy confidence. Seeing the other two had given him a plan, perhaps. Looking at the others it probably wouldn't be enough.

"Ahem. My family is very wealthy, you see, and I'm sure they would pay handso-" He was cut off by the teacher pointing once more. Before he could even raise his own imaginary wand Professor Dietrich spoke up.

" _Imperio_. You open the door to your house to your attacker, and then he executes you from behind. You are dead, and your family's livelihood has been taken. Bones." The last student tried to step into position but Malfoy didn't move.

"Hold on, this can't be fair. You haven't even told us what the point of all this is! Aren't you supposed to be teaching us instead of just pulling humiliating stunts in front of everyone?" Caiaphas gave him a hard stare that even had Draco shortly twisting in place. That was a powerful talent he had for meaningful looks.

"I am teaching, Malfoy. Be seated. Bones, the scenario is unchanged. What do you do?" For some reason she looked confident. Harry leaned forward curiously. His notes so far had been rather vague; Disarm and an arrow to killing curse. Locomotor crossed out with Depulso written underneath. That had been interesting. Malfoy's note was just 'Ha'. He wasn't really feeling notes today.

"How old am I, Professor?" That made Dietrich smile for the first time. He nodded happily and straightened up a bit.

"Obviously you have left Hogwarts, Miss Bones." She nodded in turn at him and smiled right back. It was obvious she thought he'd solved whatever puzzle this was.

"I Apparate to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and inform them that someone attempted to assault me in Diagon Alley." There was silence. Then a sharp, rhythmic noise began as Caiaphas Dietrich began to clap.

"Indeed. This is correct. When faced with danger your first thought should be of flight. You must consider how to secure yourself, first and foremost, and then those you are with. To that end we will be spending Interior sessions on theoretical escape scenarios and the most useful spells for delaying a pursuit or aiding one in an escape. The Exterior sessions will be spent on personal fitness and reaction drills. Each morning I will be running laps around the castle at dawn; you are welcome to join me." The mere thought of such a thing seemed too much for many of those here. Except the majority of Hufflepuffs, who just looked as keen as ever.

"Dealing with 'Dark' Creatures, more precisely known as merely 'Dangerous' ones, will be left to Professor Grubbly-Plank. We will have theory sessions focusing on the necessary examination knowledge for them during the weeks before testing if my petitions to have the contents of said exams changed do not get through by then." He moved to the lectern and removed a stack of papers from the back which he carried to the first desk. "For now it is quills out; we will start with a test to determine how I will break you into groups for these lessons."

He expertly counted out enough papers for each row and laid them on either side as he went down the aisles; telling them to take one and pass the rest along now and then. The test itself was fascinating. It started out as just one page but changed as you wrote on it. There was one question at the top and when you answered it the test provided follow-ups. It started with a similar situation as had just been described; however, when Harry wrote Susan Bones' answer on the paper it informed him there was an anti-apparition jinx in place.

Before too long Harry was in a life-or-death struggle that was exhausting his magical knowledge as he furiously wrote answer after answer to the damn test. The intensity of focus in the room was astounding. Everyone seemed bent and driven to defeat their parchment foe. Right up until Professor Dietrich rang a bell.

"That is time. Please print your name at the bottom of the paper and pass them forward." Frowning, Harry did so. He'd felt that he'd been so close to beating the fictional dark wizard. At some point his single sheet of parchment had become a thick scroll, which rolled itself up once he'd written the name. His looked to be one of the longest; next to Hermione's and, surprisingly, Neville's. Some of the Hufflepuff's ones were right up there too. Caiaphas collected them all in a deep wicker basket and laid it aside.

"For now, we go outside. Our first Exterior class will be at the Quidditch Pitch. You may feel free to leave now, if you wish, but remember that you will need to find a student who stayed to tell you where the next Interior class is. I will be quite interested in tracking the inflation rate for favours over the coming weeks." Unsurprisingly nobody stood to leave. Professor Dietrich nodded and then began to pack away the tests in preparation for leaving.

With all of the fuss of the demonstrations and the test Harry had almost forgotten the most interesting thing he'd noticed about their new teacher so far. It was sufficiently interesting for him to keep an eye on the old man as he hooked his crossbow and quiver into place and finally picked up his cane before leading them out of the room. That clinched it.

So far, their Defence Professor had yet to perform a single spell.


	3. Chapter Three - Effort

The other students quickly learned something Harry already had. Professor Dietrich was _fast_. He had exceptionally long legs and a very natural gait that drew him through the corridors at a speed that made it difficult to keep up if you were unprepared. They had to practically jog to follow him. Thankfully the sheer number of students made for a long chain in his wake so it would be hard to lose the class. Harry had expected the rate of motion and so was right near the front of the pack.

Their trip was quick and direct. Caiaphas seemed to be quite familiar with the staircases and corridors that usually hindered visitors to the castle. The only delay they experienced was a quick pause once they reached the outside while he counted heads to make sure nobody had been left behind.

Soon after they found themselves at the Quidditch pitch; which was itself in quite a curious state. There were miniature catapults loaded with brightly coloured red, blue, green and yellow balls about the size of a fist. Caiaphas strolled up to the nearest one and picked up the ball loaded in it.

"The House Elves do good work, it seems. Welcome to your first Exterior lesson. We shall complete our warm-ups first, and then you shall all be running laps around the pitch. Yes, you _will_ be wearing your robes; I recommend you bring a spare set to Defence classes if it is not your last lesson of the day." The reason for that being obvious; running about in their school robes would be exhausting at the best of times.

"When we perform Exterior lessons I will tailor them to the weather; which is to say, I do not care if it is raining, snowing, hailing, or thundering. The lesson will still be on. Now then! Line up in rows of ten, please." Professor Dietrich waved his cane and barked orders to help get them into position faster. Soon enough it was done, however, and they all stood sufficiently far apart to satisfy him. "Excellent. And now… jumping jacks!"

For as strenuous as it turned out to be, and it certainly was strenuous, this might have just been the greatest Defence class of Harry's life. He was a bit dubious about the first half of the Interior lesson but this right here was a gold mine of possibilities. Mostly due to the expression on Draco Malfoy's face when he realized that he was being asked to _exercise_.

"Professor, we're _wizards_. Why should we bother with this sort of muggle stuff? That's what we have magic for." Surprisingly, it wasn't Malfoy that objected; but Pansy Parkinson. The professor looked at her for a few long moments and then gestured for her to step out of line. Coincidentally, Harry noticed, there just happened to be a roughly marked out area the right size for a duelling field. How lucky.

"I will make you a deal, young lady. You stand there, yes, and I will stand here. Now, I will demonstrate the point of this 'muggle stuff' to you." He stabbed his cane down on the turf so that it stuck into the grass just enough not to fall over. Then he stretched to one side, and then the other. "Schoolyard jinxes or disarming charm only, Miss Parkinson. If you lay a single spell upon me then you are excused from all future 'muggle stuff'."

It was a credit to the girl that she didn't look confident or excited by this prospect. The old man took up a curious stance with two hands on the ground, bent double with legs back and head down. Some of the Muggleborns in the class recognized it, though, and were just confused even more.

" _Impedimenta!_ " Equally so, she went with a quick to say spell. It didn't help. Harry was watching in awe as it all happened. Pansy's mouth opened and the first syllable had barely escaped when the professor exploded off the ground. He leaned slightly to the side and raised his arm so that her jinx passed by harmlessly, Then, as she desperately tried to spin her wand at him and shout something else he passed right by.

Professor Dietrich skidded to a halt behind her. He was spinning a wand in between his fingers. Given he had one now, and Pansy didn't, it was fairly obvious what had happened. She was still staring blankly at him, though, even as he casually tossed the wand back to her.

"And if I can manage that at my age I'm sure you all can do better. Longbottom, toss my cane." The boy in question nervously stepped out of line, delicately picked up the object as if he expected it to bite him and then weakly chucked it towards the teacher. Thankfully he caught it deftly and returned to using it to support himself. "Spells move fast, but not fast enough that you can't learn to dodge them at most ranges. If there's an anti-apparition jinx in place then your best option is to run until you get outside of its range; for that you need not only speed, but _stamina_. This class will help you build that." Then, finally, it happened. Hermione Granger raised her hand. Dietrich nodded in her direction.

"Pardon me, Professor, but… isn't this class meant to be about defending ourselves?" A few people chuckled but their teacher wasn't one. He just nodded thoughtfully as he stood and seemingly pondered her query.

"Yes. This is what I am doing. The best way to protect yourselves will always be to run away. This is not always a cowardly act; just as charging headfirst into danger is not always brave." Some of the Slytherins in the crowd smirked and muttered to one another. "The skills I will be imparting upon you are universally applicable in this way; I prioritise fleeing and appealing to authority as it will, for most of you, be a far more reasonable choice."

"And what if we don't have a choice?" said Harry, almost distrustful of his own voice. He couldn't help but recall a dark night, a graveyard and a cold voice. Sometimes they weren't able to run. Professor Dietrich took just long enough to answer that the silence became uncomfortable.

"Running will always be a choice. However, I can think of two things you might mean; firstly, what if running is not the safest choice. That is one of the things that this class will teach you to change. Secondly…" The pause stretched out again as Harry found himself caught in the man's gaze. It was surprisingly warm, yet with a familiar tinge of sadness to it. "What if the _cost_ of running is one that you cannot bear? That is a more difficult issue."

He let that thought sink in. Harry could see that, on some level, the professor understood what he was getting at. "However, I am sure you can see ways to apply the ability to dodge and run offensively. Unfortunately it must be realized that, ultimately, an auror or similar authority will always be better at fighting than you if you are not one."

Hermione deflated under his obviously well-thought out answer. Perhaps, given Harry hadn't told them about his meeting with Dumbledore and Professor Dietrich yet, she was still worried that his presence might be part of the Ministry's designs. "Do not look disheartened. It was an excellent question. I would award House Points but I do not agree with that system. Instead I shall award you a more personal reward; that shall also be shared by Miss Bones and Mister Potter for their achievements as well.." The latter of the two girls perked up far more than Hermione did. Harry was just curious.

"I shall punish with loss of privilege, not points, and I shall reward with knowledge; I am sure you are all quite curious. Each of you may ask me one question, and I shall answer to the best of my ability. You may do so at any time; it needn't be in front of everyone although I shall not mind if it is." Immediately Miss Bones' hand went up. Harry wondered what she might ask him as he indicated that, yes, she could ask her question now.

"Are you an Auror?" A faint smile ghosted across the old man's face as he slowly shook his head. Apparently the question was one he found amusing.

"No." There was a pause as he didn't say anything else and her face fell. Then Caiaphas chuckled quietly. "In future, perhaps more open ended questions; for now I will simply say that I have been a teacher for some many decades now. Although it is not my primary occupation." Susan looked a bit more pleased with that answer. Hermione remained silent as she considered whether she should ask him or not. They were too far away for Harry to lean over and find out what she was thinking.

"Indeed. Then, for now, we shall run. The course is a spiral inwards to the goal there." The professor pointed to the middle of the pitch, more or less. There were posts in the ground marking out a course that grew steadily tighter. "If a ball hits you then you must exit outwards and return the start. The aim is not to finish _first_ , it is to finish at all. Today is a freebie; the balls do nothing else if they strike you." Which implied it would not be that way in future. So far the man seemed to be a terrifying fusion of Lupin and Crouch Junior.

He divided them into groups of four and sent them in one group at a time, with about thirty seconds between each group. They all handled it differently. Some sprinted as best they could and then got caught by a shot when they slowed down. Those who focused on pacing themselves were just easily picked off. The trick, as Harry saw it, was to move carefully and keep an eye on the catapults. They were self-loading and self-firing, with still no indication that their teacher was doing anything magical, and seemed to be capable of leading their target.

Nobody reached the goal before the end of the lesson. Considering it was a double-lesson in length they were all dirty, exhausted and quite smelly by the time they were finished. Nevertheless; their teacher looked pleased.

"Abbot. You got the furthest, so that's one question to you as well. As for the rest of you; good effort. I have a grasp of your capabilities now. Starting from next lesson I will be dividing you into the groups that you will remain and work in for the rest of the year." Another oddity. Harry just hoped he'd be put with his friends instead of some of the people who disbelieved him. "Your next Interior lesson will be in the Defence class; do not trust this will always be so."

Caiaphas remained behind to clear up the pitch and sent them on their way to the castle. The massive huddle of students was mostly quiet. Harry quietly noted that the Hufflepuffs looked rather ecstatic. Made sense, really; this was definitely a teacher who respected diligence. The Ravenclaws, on the whole, were less happy with such an un-academic approach. As for the Slytherins?

"I think he's mad." There it was. Malfoy had already started bad-mouthing the teacher. "And it's obvious he's playing favourites; with the _Puffs_ of all people." He was talking quite loudly, supposedly to those walking with him, but his intent was obvious. "Still, I shouldn't be surprised that Dumbledore would hire another dud. I'll be writing father to put a stop to all of this 'Exterior lesson' nonsense. The School Board won't stand for it."

"Oh, shut it Malfoy. That lesson was great." To everyone's surprise, including Harry's, it wasn't him who spoke up; but Susan Bones who had beaten him to the punch. He turned on her quite quickly with a very nasty expression.

"Talking back to a Prefect, Bones? That'll be points from Hufflepuff if you keep it up, once I talk to Snape. Not that it matters." The Slytherins snickered and the Hufflepuffs flushed at the implications of his statement. Their house winning the cup didn't happen often.

"You were the one insulting a professor, actually," Hermione said with a raised brow. Draco just rolled his eyes at her.

"Keep your _pet_ on her leash, Potter. Or is the little mudblood too good to listen to you now that she's a Prefect?" Hermione was far too aware of the importance of good dental care to grind her teeth but Harry was sure that she was clenching them about as tight as she could. Her lack of response just made Malfoy look even more triumphant.

"It's not our fault you got schooled by the 'Puffs, Draco. How many times did you wash out of the running?" Harry smirked happily at his foe as he finally got a barb in edgewise. He was backed up, much to his amusement, by the Ravenclaw Lisa Turpin.

"Twelve. I was counting. Anyway, Malfoy, he plastered me all over the side of a flying cart and you don't see me complaining. You're just being a sore loser because he beat you without even using any magic." Someone in the crowd whispered something not quite under their breath that sounded along the lines of 'Emphasis on _loser_ '. Draco quickly went from pale to beet red; out of fury or embarrassment. Then it stopped. A calculating look appeared on his face as he retreated into his clique of Slytherins and continued the conversation far more quietly.

Harry felt concern growing at the sudden shift in behaviour. What had Lisa said to make Draco change his mood so quickly? It clicked just as quickly as his earlier little realization at the end of the Interior lesson had. So far Caiaphas still had yet to perform any magic. He hadn't even produced a wand. Could Draco be thinking that their teacher was a Squib, like Filch?

Once they got back to the Common Room Hermione cornered both of them and said that they needed to talk; after dinner. The feast itself was, at least, relatively quiet. Harry's lack of outbursts from the constant staring and jibes had made him a fairly dull target and so he was left to enjoy his meal in peace. More interesting was the absence of Professor Dietrich from the high table. Maybe Harry should use his question for that? It felt like a waste.

The two new professors were both topic of conversation. Umbridge's lesson plan was making waves amongst those that remembered Professor Lupin and knew what he was; most of Gryffindor recalled the man with fondness. Those who'd had Defence with Professor Dietrich were enjoying taunting those who hadn't yet; except, for some reason, the Seventh Years stayed very quiet and flinched every time his name was mentioned. Harry would have expected Fred and George to get in on it but they weren't at the table. Nobody had seen them for hours, in fact.

"They'll be up to something somewhere, no doubt. Probably testing their _products_ on some unsuspecting First Years," Hermione griped at them on the way back to the Common Room. Harry shrugged. The Weasley Twins were reckless, perhaps, but they wouldn't endanger other students. Intentionally, at least. Once they were inside she dragged them over to the fireplace and pulled out their homework.

"Properties of moonstone…" Ron grumbled, "Didn't even know we used stones in potions. I thought the stuff had to be alive? Well, more like dead I suppose." Much to their surprise Hermione, even as she pulled out the Potions textbook for later, waved off his concerns.

"That's not important right now. We have to do something about the new teachers." Ron started and then stared blankly at her. The idea of Hermione Granger saying homework wasn't important seemed to be having difficulty getting through his head.

"I get what's wrong with the toad, but Professor Dietrich seems pretty choice. Like if Moody was actually teaching us as opposed to a mad Death Eater." Obviously Hermione didn't agree with him because she shook her head violently and leaned in closer.

"I don't trust him. The way he's teaching… the things he say _make sense_ but it's still not teaching us to protect ourselves! It's just making us more reliant on the Ministry." Finally, Harry decided he ought to step in. For the sake of her peace of mind.

"Actually, Hermione, I think we can trust him." She gave him an incredulous look that firmly indicated whatever he said next better be good. "Well… see, Dumbledore called him in as a personal favour. He only got the message a couple of days ago, he said, and he was in _Siberia_ at the time." His friend frowned as she made the calculations in her head. Then she blinked and stared at Harry.

"Wait, how do you know that?" she asked. Ron gave him his full attention as well; brimming with similar levels of curiosity.

"He stopped me in the halls on the way back to the Common Room yesterday and took me up to see Dumbledore. They had a bit of a chat about it… apparently he'll be teaching me Occlumency instead of Snape." Relief blossomed in both his friend's faces as he explained. Had they really been that worried about Caiaphas?

"Good. I doubt you'd have made much progress with Professor Snape in any case." Harry blinked twice at Hermione's firm statement. Right. Or they could've been worried about that. "And if Dumbledore trusts him _that_ much then I suppose we shall have to as well." She paused and then looked down at the Potions textbook as if seeing it for the first time. "Well come on then! Twelve inches aren't going to write themselves. And, Ron, it doesn't matter if it was once alive or not so long as it dissolves."

That was that. Umbridge had yet to assign any homework and Professor Dietrich somehow didn't seem the sort of teacher to put much stock in the practice so all Harry and Ron had was the moonstone essay and the dream journal. Hermione had some Arithmancy work that looked more like a Dark ritual than anything else, at least to Harry, but she assured them it was all very simple in principle as she started working on the complex lines and shapes.

Perhaps an hour after dinner the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and a dishevelled looking Fred and George stumbled in. They were covered in dirt and grime and looked exhausted. Hermione stood up as soon as they appeared; initially to chastise them.

"Where on Earth have you two be-" She cut off with a gasp as she took them in. "What _happened_ to you?" Fred, or possibly George, looked to his twin and then back to Hermione. He was supporting the other boy who was hanging on to his brother with an arm over his shoulder.

"Tip for you, 'Mione." Fred began. George finally looked up and he was just as dirty as his brother; with a matching look of fear in his eyes.

"Do _not_ mess with Professor Dietrich."

"Ever."

"Never ever."

"Off limits."

"Unsafe."

"Inadvisable."

"Terrible idea, really."

"Dunno why I went along with it."

Her head flickered back and forth between the two of them as they did the twin thing until she finally, with a loud huff, _Scourgify_ 'd the both of them into sensibility. Fred rubbed a finger in his ear as George coughed up some bubbles.

"What. Happened." She said through gritted teeth as she stared the two of them down.

"Well, see-"

"It went like this…"

And thus the two launched into a tale of how, after their own morning lesson with the Professor, they had set out to do a bit of snooping and maybe get some payback. Exactly what they were getting payback for they quite notably refused to say as the entire year had uniformly decided to Not Talk About It due to sheer embarrassment.

"So we'd just broken the spells on his door and slipped into his office and next thing we knew we were pinned to the roof. Couldn't move a muscle, couldn't reach our wands, didn't even see what did it. He didn't come back for _hours_."

"We went out at the start of your Exterior, see, figured we'd have plenty of time to poke around."

"Not like we haven't broken in there before."

"Too right."

"We were face-up, too!"

"Couldn't even snoop at the papers on his desk."

"Very inconsiderate."

"Anyway, when he came back he left us up there for a bit while we had a little chat."

"We are _literally_ lucky to be alive."

"Still gives me chills thinking about it."

"And then he dragged us downstairs and had us mucking out the ovens while he had tea with Filch and the House Elves."

"No magic, either."

"He gets along quite well with Filch."

"I can see why."

Throughout their long discussion they'd gained quite an audience who were now all staring at the two in abject horror; Harry and friends along with them. Most of the audience were more focused on the mention of the caretaker. Harry just wanted to know why they thought they were so lucky to have survived.

"... right. Well, let that be a lesson to you! Everyone, don't you have homework to do?" Hermione's Prefect badge flashed in the light and helped to disperse the students back to what they were doing. Fred and George slunk off to bed and Harry, struck by curiosity, made an excuse to his friends and then followed them into their dormitory. They'd slumped right down on their beds but had weakly raised their hands in salute to him as they saw him coming in.

"Did you mean it? What you said earlier." George, or possibly Fred, raised their head weakly and looked at him. They knew what bit he was referring to.

"He said that Dumbledore had a word with him about his, ah, security measures last night. If he hadn't done that then Fred and I would be a smear of red paste on the far wall of the Defence Classroom right about now." Fred mumbled something into his pillow that might have been 'too right'. It was hard to tell. Then he turned his head a bit and faced Harry as well.

"No mercy, that man. We get the feeling he's _had_ a lot of enemies, get the picture? Now bugger off, will you? We're trying to sleep."

Harry left them to it.


	4. Chapter Four - Working Quickly

The next morning at breakfast the Great Hall was abuzz with all sorts of interesting gossip; which was, much to Harry's surprise, not about him. Part of it were complaints from those who had Defence today and had heard about Professor Dietrich's policy of not caring about the weather from their fellow students; the ceiling above was grey and spattered with thick droplets of rain. But there was more than that.

A pervasive rumor was abounding based on Professor Dietrich still not being at the Staff Table this morning. Harry was starting to wonder if some of his antics were intentionally meant to draw attention to him. Perhaps he'd use his question for that. In any case, it seemed that a half dozen or so Seventh Years had gotten detention from him yesterday and it had consisted of waking up at the crack of dawn in order to help Filch mop the halls. More interesting was that the professor had supposedly grabbed a mop himself and got stuck in right alongside Filch and the detentionees.

Even more astounding to all those listening, the thing that finally made most people say that the teller of the tale was having them on, was that it was said Filch had, at the end, grudgingly _thanked_ the students for their help before sending them on their way.

Harry didn't doubt it. Professor Dietrich had a way with people. Except for the Slytherins everyone in his class seemed to love him, or at least most of his lesson; even then, most of the ones who weren't Draco or Pansy seemed just as amused at their Housemate's humiliation as everyone else.

Umbridge, unfortunately, was at breakfast. She was wearing something fluffy and awfully pink, as was to be expected, but she also kept shooting looks at Harry from across the hall. As if hoping that the whispers and muttering amongst the students was something likely to set him off. He glared back at her but inwardly smirked. She wasn't going to get any satisfaction from him if he could help it.

Things were fairly dull otherwise. Hermione was quietly bemoaning the fact that she hadn't gotten to make anything to leave out for the House Elves; probably a good thing, but Harry didn't say that to her. Instead he chatted amiably with Angelina across the table about Quidditch tryouts and what they might be looking for when something suddenly occurred to him.

"Oh, blast," he said, "I'll have to go see Professor Dietrich at lunch. He, uh, wanted my help with something this Friday and I'll have to ask if I can change the time." Angelina paled suddenly, a remarkable feat for her, and stared at him with rising horror.

"N-no! No, that's, um… I'm sure… but…" She was quite obviously torn between her fear and her burning passion for Quidditch. The fact that the former could even come close to matching the latter said volumes. Ron leaned over.

"What even happened to you all yesterday? Our lesson with him was fine. Pretty great, actually, he really put Malfoy in his place." She shook her head and shrank back into her seat; poking idly at her food.

"Nope. We all agreed, it was unanimous. First rule of Defence Class is you do not talk about Defence Class." Now Harry was seriously conflicted because he kind of wanted to use his one question to find out about that as well.

"Yeesh. Did you guys make him mad or something?" After a moment's pause, and a quick look in either direction, Angelina nodded hesitantly.

"Someone said… something. And he was really quite nice about it… y'know, all things considered." Harry thought long and hard on what had happened in his class yesterday and he gave her a sly look.

"Did he fight someone?" A pause, then a faint nod. "... more than one someone?" Another faint nod. "... _everyone?_ " She conspicuously said nothing.

"Cor," Ron said, "that must've been a sight. What kind of magic did he use?" The remainder of the food suddenly vanished from the tables; signalling the end of breakfast. In the commotion only Harry and Ron heard the last thing that Angelina said as she left.

"He didn't."

As Harry walked to Double Charms he added a few more points to one of his theories. Professor Dietrich couldn't be a Squib. He was reasonably sure of that. Even if he was he still seemed to be a great Defence teacher. So the only other option was that he wanted to look like a Squib. Why? Well, there was probably another answer right there. Umbridge. Hermione didn't know anything about him, which meant likely as not the Ministry didn't either. Maybe he wanted to keep it that way.

His distraction kept up all the way through Charms and right into Double Transfiguration; although at least the former was doing something he was good at. The latter, focusing on Vanishing, ended up recapturing his focus as he desperately tried to make the snail on his desk vanish into the ether without much luck. At least their homework for _that_ was only to practice the spell some more. Harry barely remembered what a counter-charm was, let alone how to make one, but he figured that between him, Ron and mostly Hermione they could work it out.

During lunch break he excused himself while Ron and Hermione went to the library; the former to look up more uses of moonstones and the latter to knit patiently while he did so. Hermione had already finished her essay. He found himself at the Defence classroom soon enough and, after a moment's hesitation, carefully knocked first. After a moment the door opened and Professor Dietrich looked down at him.

"Potter. Is it Friday?" Much to Harry's shock he looked genuinely confused. It was an unusually vulnerable state to see the old man in. After a moment he shook his head. "No, cannot be; yesterday was Monday and time is still linear in Hogwarts. At least as far as I am aware. You may come in." He turned on his heel, leaving that cryptic statement behind, and clacked his way across the classroom and up the stairs into his office.

When Harry followed he was presented with a horribly unpleasant sight; that being Argus Filch sitting on a comfy looking armchair beside Caiaphas' desk. The caretaker seemed equally surprised as he pointed violently at Harry.

"What is _he_ doing here! That boy is no good, Professor, no good at all. He has it out for me, you know, just… just because I'm… I'm a…" Filch was silenced by a wave of a hand as Professor Dietrich sat down behind his desk and pulled an extra china cup out of a drawer for Harry. There was a chair and so Harry sat nervously in it as Filch gave him evil looks.

"Now, Argus, I am sure that young Mister Potter has no more dislike for Squibs than I do. Harry?" Part of him wanted to say that was true, but he certainly had dislike for Filch. However, the professor was looking at him in a fashion that made him think it was a bad idea to do so.

"Ah, no, not at all. I mean… one of my neighbours back in Little Whinging is a Squib; Mrs Figg. She, um… she was one of the only people who was genuinely nice to me growing up." Something about what he said, whether it was the words or tone or the sheer implication of those words, seemed to mollify Filch. He returned to petting Mrs Norris with one hand and didn't give Harry quite so hateful looks.

"Argus shall be attending some of my lessons, Mister Potter, as his schedule allows him; a schedule I intend to alleviate with those I give detentions. He is a valued member of the faculty and there is no reason why he could not contribute in the defence of this school if it came down to it." Harry had never seen Filch swell with pride before. It was really quite fascinating. His bandy chest grew and his hunched back half-straightened as he beamed with pride.

"That's great," Harry began, unable to stop himself, "Did he tell you about how he beat Pansy Parkinson in a duel without even using any magic?" Apparently Caiaphas had not done so but he still gave Harry a warm, twinkling look out of one eye while Filch gaped and gasped in awe.

"Quite right, Argus, he is telling the truth. I'm twice your age, even, and I can manage that much. If we get you some better cleaning products, and some fresh air now and then, I think your cough will clear up nicely and you'll be healthy as a draught horse." This was all a truly fascinating look into the psyche of the caretaker. Harry almost felt he was gaining an appreciation for the horrible little man's when he just looked abashed at all the attention being paid to him and turned his head down to his cat while mumbling quietly to himself.

"'lways taken pride in my work…" Mumble mutter. "Didn't want to disappoint Dumbledore." Which was probably true, wasn't it? Caiaphas patted him on the shoulder and took his empty cup to put it to one side.

"Best you be off for now, Argus. I need a private word with Mister Potter, though I shall certainly meet you in the kitchens later and we'll continue our chat about your diet. Very well?" Filch nodded and gently nudged Mrs Norris out of his lap. Man and cat slunk away with heads held higher than Harry was used to seeing them. Once they were gone, and the door was closed, Caiaphas sighed loudly.

"Sir. Professor. If I may… why are you bothering with Filch? He's always just been a bit of a nuisance to us and I think he might kind of hate the students." Professor Dietrich shook his head as he poured some more tea. Now Filch wasn't occupying his attention Harry could survey the rest of the room. There were standing glass cases on little plinths containing some of the objects he'd carried in with him; there was that strange black obelisk, and there was an odd little silver container with a little glass window through which Harry could see what looked like bone. There were more oddities besides; all safely contained behind undoubtedly magical glass.

"Is that a question? Or would it be a _Question_ , Mister Potter?" After a moment's pause Harry indicated that it was the latter. This was probably worth it. "Two reasons, then. Firstly; although he doesn't know it that man would die to serve this school. His behaviour towards the students is derived from two things; love, and resentment. He loves this school, and Dumbledore, more than anything except, perhaps, his cat." Caiaphas sipped his tea leisurely and, finally, Harry tried his. It was warm, quite sweet, but rather pleasant.

"That love ties into the resentment. He sees, every day, what he could have been. Thus Argus Filch is torn between wanting to be in this world and hating it for existing. He is Icarus, seeking to fly as close as he dares to the sun only to be burned by its light. It doesn't help that he doesn't want to let Dumbledore down and, thus, aspires to be the greatest caretaker he can be." Thinking of various pranks played by the Weasleys over the years, as well as a few incidents of messiness on his own part, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. All that time making the castle clean, without magic, only for students to muck it up.

"The second reason, sir?" A change of topic might be for the best. Caiaphas certainly looked chuffed with himself when he mentioned it.

"Dolores Umbridge. She is a nasty, petty soul and will gladly prey upon Filch's resentment in order to turn him on this school. I aim to ensure his gratitude towards myself outweighs that. If he is to be anyone's pawn he shall be mine and, thus, not a danger to this school." That was… surprisingly cold for the figure of a warm and kindly grandfather being presented currently. It matched other aspects he'd seen, however. The harshness of a stare and the ice in his eyes. Harry could accept that answer from _that_ Caiaphas.

"... right. Um. Well, sir, I was coming to ask if we could rearrange our timetable? Only there's Quidditch tryouts on Friday and the Captain wants me to attend." Harry had half-expected a withering look or a snap remark but he just nodded thoughtfully instead.

"Very well. Saturday eve, then; come here straight from dinner. Actually, come here by way of the Hospital Wing and tell Madame Pomfrey you are there to collect my potions, if you please. Give my regards to Miss Johnson and inform her that I think she conducted herself excellently given the circumstances and that reveille tomorrow will be at five am _sharp_." Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to say much else.

"Good, good. You may go, Mister Potter. Oh!" Harry turned back at the door to look at the professor again. "I have a message for Miss Granger, from the House Elves."

"I think that would work better coming from you than me, sir."

"Hm? Ah, yes, I see. As you were, then."

Harry left.

By the time he was outside and on his way down to Care of Magical Creatures the day had at least dried up. The weather was cool and calm, even if there was still a few drops of water being spat down here and there. He met up with his friends again outside of Hagrid's hut and they got the lesson underway. Although he was worried about his friend, one of his oldest friends at that, Dumbledore's announcement at the start of the year had at least put some of his concerns to rest. Even if Draco was being a prat, as per usual, and kept looking over at Harry then having a laugh with the rest of his cronies.

The lesson was on Bowtruckles and that at least was innocuous enough even if he did feel insulted by the overly awe-struck reactions of some of the girls. You'd think Hagrid had never shown them anything cool. Well… the Skrewts were hard to define, but apart from Malfoy cocking it up the lesson on Hippogriffs had been pretty great. Still, he got on with it in spite of all the little jibes flowing from the Slytherin side. Harry tried to focus on his sketch. He and Ron got the idea to start from different sides so they could copy off each other's later; the result would probably look lopsided but it'd work, at least. Hermione was the only one out of them that finished.

At the end of the lesson, as Professor Grubbly-Plank was cleaning up, Harry approached her with a question in mind. It had been nagging him since the coaches.

"Professor?" He caught her attention and she gave him a little 'Hm?' as she was coaxing the Bowtruckles back into the tray. "What are the horses that pull the carriages?" She gave him a sharp look at first and then her eyes alighted on her scar and softened.

"Ah. Of course. Well, Mister Potter, they're called Thestrals. You may learn about them later this year, or next. They're a relative of the Pegasus and, so it is said, can only be seen by those who have seen death." A memory of gravestones and a flash of green came to mind. Of course that was it.

"Oh. Um. Thank you." Hermione, who had been standing nearby, shifted awkwardly as Harry joined up with her and Ron. He was suitably abashed as well.

"Ah… sorry for thinking you were bonkers earlier, mate. Horseless carriages made more sense t'me than invisible horses." Harry shrugged. It was done, and now he knew better. Really he'd wanted to ask her about Hagrid but, with Dumbledore giving out the official story, he doubted he'd get anything new.

"It's fine. Come on, let's get back to the Common Room and fill out these drawings. I've still got that Potions Essay to finish up, too." On their way back they passed the greenhouses; running into Ginny first of all and Luna Lovegood second. The later loudly proclaimed her faith in Harry, much to the amusement of others around them, and then had it out a bit with Hermione.

"You know, Hermione, if there's such a thing as horses that only Harry can see how d'you know those things she was talking about don't exist?" Ron asked as Luna flounced off into the distance. Hermione looked like she was about to say it wasn't the same and then frowned as the words died in her throat.

"Um… Potter?" He looked up to see Ernie Macmillan standing in front of him as well. "I want you to know that it's not just Loony Lovegood that believes you. I do to. My family's always stood behind Dumbledore 'cause he's always done right by us; and we'll stand behind you too. All of us." Lavender Brown, who had been laughing at both Harry and Luna with Parvati Patil, looked rather incensed at the declaration of support. They started to storm off and Ernie just shot them a look and let them go.

"Anyway," he continued, "I reckon our new Defence teacher does too. Training us to run away from trouble and dodge spells? Doesn't sound like he thinks we're as safe as the Ministry claims we are. So yeah. You've got good sorts on your side, too. Um. That's all." And then he fled; probably quite embarrassed.

Harry wasn't. He felt pretty good, actually. That warm feeling continued all the way through Herbology; even if Professor Sprout insisted on talking for a good ten minutes as to the importance of their upcoming OWLs. Even after an hour and a half had passed and they were making their way up to the castle while Ron and Hermione arguing over the difference between his invisible horses and Luna's Snorkacks, he revelled in the thought that there were still people who didn't think he was just a… a lying attention seeker. It was annoying how that was always the opposite of what he'd wanted and now that he had a reason to want people to pay attention they were doing so for all the wrong reasons.

Just inside there was a massive crowd forming around the school's notice board. They stopped to crane their necks but it was too difficult to try and see over the press of bodies. Hermione looked like she was considering Prefecting her way to the front of the group when the Weasley Twins materialized beside her.

"Hear the news?"

"It's pretty great."

"Wednesday avos."

"Every fortnight."

"Flitwick's involved, so you know it'll be good."

Hermione rolled her eyes and cut them off before they could build up more momentum.

"Just tell us what's going on, you two." They looked from one to the other and then George, or maybe Fred, grinned from ear to ear.

"Professors Flitwick and Dietrich-"  
"Match made in heaven, that."

"Or hell, might be."

"Too right, too true."

"In any case, the case being in this case-"

"For the first time since Lockhart-"

"Hogwarts has a Duelling Club again."

Harry's eyes widened. When Lockhart had tried to revive the tradition it had been a disaster. But with their Defence and Charms Professors working together there might actually be something worth having there. Hermione's shocked expression meant she agreed.

"Apparently I underestimated him, then. Come along, you two, we have homework to do." It took a moment for him to catch up; Ron a bit longer as he tried vainly to get a good look a the notice for a moment before giving up and jogging up to his friends.

"What d'you mean? Underestimated who," he asked, slightly breathlessly.

"Professor Dietrich. Don't you see, Ron?" He, and Harry, shook their heads and she rolled her eyes with exasperation. "The Ministry is trying to interfere, and he probably expects it to get worse. So he's designed his curriculum to be as unobjectionable as possible. After all, he's constantly telling us to do what? _Run and find an Auror_. Umbridge _can't_ disagree with that." Which made sense, but that didn't explain why she'd underestimated him.

"Duelling is a time-honoured wizarding tradition. He's started the club up again so he can teach us offensive spells in a way that she'll have difficulty shutting down. After all, can't you imagine all the wealthy pure-blooded children writing home to complain about the teacher that shut down their duelling club?" Ron whistled loudly and slowly.

"That's brilliant. Most of 'em are the Ministry's biggest supporters, like Malfoy, but he's basically setting up to use them against her. Blimey, but he works fast doesn't he?" Hermione took on a grim expression as she rounded on the next flight of stairs.

"He probably has to. Umbridge is going to try something soon herself, I just know it."

The next morning at breakfast there was an article in the Daily Prophet announcing the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three; creating the office of Hogwarts High Inquisitor and appointing Senior Under-Secretary Dolores Umbridge to the position.


End file.
